


Distorted Love

by Lyaksandra



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Could Be Canon, Drug Use, F/F, Relationship Woes, Sensitive themes, Sexual Content, Suggestive Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-05 18:30:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6716278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyaksandra/pseuds/Lyaksandra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Victoria Chase and Max Caulfield love each other deeply. Really, they do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Distorted Love

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write something filthy and darker than my other stories. That might as well be the warning for this story right there. There’s still a happy ending, though. I’m a sucker for those.

Victoria Maribeth Chase, apex predator of the Blackwell Academy social ecosystem met the morning light feeling like shit. No surprises there. She had not slept like a decent, or even normal, human being since she was fifteen.

As she rubbed the sleep off her eyes, she noticed her breasts were hanging out in the air. That meant another night she had come into her dorm room, swallowed some Halcion or Sonata with a swig of Nuvo, and then proceeded to black out without any memory of how she had actually gone to sleep. Practically naked, apparently.

When she finally decided to get up, she slid to the side of the bed and sat on its edge. The immediate sensation of discomfort in her lower area made her aware of the fact that her panties had ridden way up her ass. This was why she was not partial to thongs. She hated the sensation of her crack being stuffed with cloth.

With a groan, she stood up, pulled the offending garment out, and went to check herself in the mirror by the door. What a horror show.

Her hair was sticking out in every direction, her eyes were red and the lids puffy, and her makeup was smudged. Holy shit. That bumped makeup removal up to first place on her list of things to do this morning.

After a few minutes of careful rubbing with a couple soft cotton pads, she looked presentable again. Sort of. Add to that some eye drops and she was almost ready. Now, for the final touch before she could actually go to the showers.

Victoria walked over to her dresser and fished a small Ziploc full of pills from the bottom of her sock drawer. What were these? Adderall, Ritalin? Whatever. She was not too keen on finding out what exactly she was buying as long as her provider assured her that the stuff would wake her up and help her focus. The guy that had appeared out of nowhere to replace Frank was even shadier than the former, which was a feat in itself; making small talk with him was not one of her priorities. Like, at all.

Hell, she had not liked Frank all that much. Thankfully, Nathan had been around back then to deal with all their medical needs. He was gone, though. Nowadays, she only made the sacrifice of appearing face to face in front of the new creepy dealer because she absolutely had to. There was no way she could trust Taylor or Courtney not to end ass up in a ditch somewhere because the deal had gone south after one, or the two of them, had done or said something stupid. And, if she could not trust those two, the rest of the Vortex Club was completely out of the question.

She popped two of the pills in her mouth and chased them down with another swig of Nuvo. The stuff was tasty.

After that, Victoria put on a sleeveless top and short shorts, and walked back to the mirror. She slid a hand down the front of her panties and scratched her pubic hair as she did so. That was the last disgusting human act she would allow herself for now. Ready to get on with the day, she proceeded to practice smiles and poses in front of the mirror. Everything had to be perfect. She had to have a one-track mind and a one-track heart, because if she failed, she would just fall apart.

Victoria knew exactly why oftentimes she walked and talked like a machine. It was part of knowing exactly who and what she wanted to be. Even if now she was becoming her own self-fulfilled prophecy: A Chase. But not Victoria Chase, just a Chase. Like dear papa and momma wanted. Her throat tightened and she tasted something bitter in her mouth. She held herself together like a champ, and promised herself it would get easier, just as she had done for the last decade.

Once satisfied that her game face was back on, Victoria grabbed her shower tote and strutted out of her dorm room.

Later that morning, she took a seat at her desk in the photography classroom, and while waiting for the teacher to arrive, she pulled her cellphone out. She began checking her Facebook feed while chattering away with Taylor and Courtney, who also had their phones out. In any case, that was the impression Victoria wanted to give. In all truth, she was furtively checking both of her friends out, trying to rationalize the feelings that had been recently plaguing her mind, because they did not fit into what she considered her personality should be. She had gone over this in her head a couple times before, but, however fruitless the task was, her mind just refused to take it lying down, for obvious reasons.

Taylor’s straight bangs were a result of Victoria’s taste in anime. The hime cut—princess, to the English speaking—was a staple of anime, and not long after Victoria had made her preference for it known, her friend had scheduled an appointment with her hairdresser. That was the thing with Taylor: Victoria had but to voice her preferences once, and the girl would accommodate her. Not always, though. That was key. Yes, Taylor was eager to please, but she did not just bend the knee indiscriminately. There were times when she would face Victoria head on, which was why they had grown into an actual friendship and not just a master-servant dynamic. Even if that did not appear to be the case every time they interacted.

Aside from that, Taylor was nearly as tall as Victoria, with a face of pretty, if unremarkable features, and a hot body to top it all off. Victoria could admit to that because she was not the kind of girl to hang out with the ugly ones in school just to stand out herself. If she was going to be on top of the food chain, she would do it by standing on the shoulders of the best there was before her arrival. That was what being queen meant.

Courtney, on the other hand, was never too eager to please, nor was she willing to confront Victoria. She probably hung with her and Taylor out of pure convenience. Although she never stepped out of line, Victoria could not help feeling that Courtney was not entirely trustworthy, which worried her. Fortunately, those worries were ameliorated by the fact that, in contrast to Taylor, Courtney possessed an exotic beauty. Given that the girl always deferred to Victoria while in public, it made her a valuable asset to have around. For now, their friendship was more of a mutually beneficial arrangement. Who knew how long it would be sustainable, though.

So, why, if Victoria Chase had her pick of boys and girls in this school, did she have the hots for Maxine Fucking Caulfield?

Speaking of the devil, the subject in question walked into the classroom at that very moment. Victoria immediately rolled her eyes melodramatically.

Surprise, surprise—not—Max was wearing her usual attire: Tatty skinny jeans that did no favors to her actually shapely legs, coupled with the typical deer motif tee-shirt and crappy hoodie that concealed her modest but admittedly decent tits. Today, the ensemble was completed by a brunette mane in complete disarray. Once upon a time it had probably been a bob cut with bangs over forehead. A shitty cut, no question about it, but today… Damn, today it looked like an old man’s hair piece fresh out of the tumble dryer. Victoria felt her jaw tighten. Why did her crotch have to tingle at the presence of this… this thing?

“Hi, Maxine,” she greeted in a mock sweet tone.

Max said nothing, but, holy shit, if looks could kill. Victoria knew she hated being called by her full name.

“Hey, are combs and brushes too mainstream for a hipster like you or what? Although, I guess it doesn’t get any more underground than rat’s nest, huh?” Victoria lifted her hand to one side, palm facing upward. Taylor and Courtney immediately high-fived her as they giggled at the joke. Rekt. Victoria, one gazillion points, Max, zero. She smiled smugly as the girl dragged her mopey ass toward her own desk.

What a disappointment. Max was a stupid zombie nowadays, and that was being generous with the descriptors. Victoria understood. She actually did. The hipster had lost her friend to a junkie psychopathic douchebag. It fucking sucked, no one could deny that. Thing was, she had not been the only one affected. Everyone in school had been to some extent, especially Victoria herself, what with said crazy asshole being her best friend and all. Hell, it had hit her hard, way harder than she cared to admit even to her own self, but that was no excuse for letting one’s self sink so fucking deep down the gutter.

Here she was, barely held together inside by pills, alcohol and a little blow now and then, but still presenting a strong front. There was no excuse for going around life looking like a turd.

Late afternoon found Victoria sitting on her couch with Max. Somehow, she had managed to drag the hipster into her dorm room to try fixing this clothing situation. It was as much for Max’s benefit as it was for hers. Well, maybe it was more about Victoria holding onto the last dregs of her sanity. She simply could not carry on feeling horny about someone who dressed like a fucking hobo. That was the simple truth of the matter. Her mind was slipping away enough as it was.

“We need to do something about your clothes.”

“Mhm,” Max replied.

“Did you even listen to what I said?”

“Mhm.”

Victoria huffed exasperatedly and reached over to shake Max’s shoulder. “Hey, hippie, you haven’t looked at my face since you arrived.”

That got Max’s attention, who proceeded to blush profusely and look away.

“What the fuck?” Victoria’s jaw tightened and her eyes gleamed dangerously. “Have you been ogling me all this time, you fucking pervert?”

Max said nothing, but her inability to meet Victoria’s gaze even though she was obviously making the effort was answer enough.

“Really? So, now we have to add _can’t keep vagina under control_ to the avalanche of your shortcomings?”

The hipster mumbled something inaudible in response.

“What did you say?” Victoria’s tone was growing harsher by the second.

Max finally looked her in the eye, although it was sideways and from under her eyelids, as if she were ashamed of the words coming out of her mouth.

“You made me this way,” she said, barely above a whisper.

“What?” Victoria exclaimed incredulously. She could not decide how much of this coy act to buy. “Are you seriously pinning your thirst on me?”

“You made me this way!” And with that shouted proclamation hanging in the air, Max suddenly launched herself at Victoria’s lap and began clawing at the button of her jeans.

Victoria tried fending the attacking hands off, but Max’s small size belied the strength in those noodle arms of hers. Seeing how she was losing, Victoria changed tactics to pushing Max’s head away from her crotch. That prompted Max to look up at her.

“Victoria. Please. I need this.”

Mother fucker. She was doing the puppy eyes and everything. It was the whole _feel sad for me_ emotional blackmail deal that Max knew Victoria had trouble refusing. Bitch.

That small hesitation on Victoria’s part gave Max the opening she needed to pull the jeans down her legs, panties and everything. No sooner were her unmentionables exposed, the hipster buried her face in them.

Victoria gasped at the contact. Max’s lips and tongue knew her every weak point and not a single one was left untouched. Perhaps she had in fact made her this way.

Without any conscious effort, Victoria opened her legs and lifted them to rest her feet on Max’s back. The action improved the contact between them tenfold. She felt the hipster’s lips and tongue moving against her inflamed flesh and recognized the motions immediately. Max was kissing her the same way she kissed her upper lips. The girl was making out lovingly with her privates. Who did that? That was not how cunnilingus was supposed to work! Oh god. Victoria felt her belly clench almost painfully, the pleasure reaching critical mass seemingly without any buildup.

Max retreated for a moment, looking up with heavy lidded eyes, her lips, chin and cheeks glistening with Victoria’s secretions. She ran her hands along Victoria’s thighs with an odd reverence. “You have really pretty legs. Like a model’s. I think you could live off them just by modeling shoes or something.” Then, she returned to her ministrations.

Victoria’s skin burst into flames and her focus became a pinprick. Reality fell around her, and for a second, only herself and Max, lapping eagerly at her sodden folds, existed. The moment stretched until Victoria felt a cold fear seep into her consciousness and mingle with the now unbearable pleasure. What if the sensation never ended? What if she lost her mind because of it? In fact, what if this killed her? The possibility felt real in that moment. Her whole body went taut, whether it was due to the pleasure or the fear, she did not know. She did not know anything anymore.

Then, without warning, her entire mind exploded like a firework, a burst of light amidst absolute darkness.

It was pure, undiluted beauty that lasted a heartbeat, and then, as ephemeral as one, it was gone. Nothing was left in its wake.

When Victoria finally came to, Max was caressing her face tenderly and saying something. It took a couple tries before she could even hear the words, much less understand them.

“Will you do me now?”

Victoria’s mind was jumbled, but she felt compelled to pay for the services rendered. It was something her parents had instilled in her since a young age. A Chase, much like the Lannisters, always paid his or her debts. Did that even apply here, in a relationship? Surely it did not, right? Whatever.

“Yes,” she whispered airily, standing up on shaky legs, “of course.”

Her knees felt like Jell-O, but she waited patiently until Max lied down on the couch. The girl undid her tatty skinny jeans and pulled them down her legs with an eagerness that bordered in desperation and then looked at Victoria. Her lips moved but no sound came out. At least not that Victoria heard.

“What?” she asked, her tone less demanding than she intended.

“I want you to sit on my face,” Max blurted. “I want to try a sixty-nine. I want to do you again while you do me.”

She wanted to do her again? Victoria’s legs nearly gave under her. She was not sure she could go another round. Like, at all.

“What?” she repeated dumbly.

Max bit her lower lip. For some reason, Victoria’s brain registered the motion as if captured in super slow-motion. So soft and supple. Her crotch tingled.

“I want to try a sixty-nine. I want to do you again while you do me.”

Victoria had heard the first time. She did not need the repetition. It was just that she was kind of out of it.

After a beat, she finally moved forward to get on the couch, and despite her trembling legs, she managed to position herself kneeling on top of Max’s face. She lowered herself little by little, as if afraid. When she felt warm breath down under, a chill ran up her spine and she visibly shuddered. Right then, Max’s hands came up and captured the dip where her thighs met her hips, and finished pulling her down. Victoria moaned, a contented, pleasured sound that emerged effortlessly from her lips.

She bent forward and got to work, feeling Max doing the same.

When Victoria saw Max completely bare before her for the first time, she was surprised to find out that the hipster was shaven clean between the legs. How did someone that paid no attention to her clothing and general appearance bothered with this? It boggled Victoria’s mind. Not so much anymore. Nowadays, she mostly felt a small thrill of perversion about it. Max was small; petite, even. So, yeah, that spiced things up even more between them. Like they needed it.

Victoria’s concentration was suddenly and rudely interrupted by a foreign sensation. She yelped and lifted her hips.

“Max?! What the fuck?!”

“Was that bad?” came the timid question.

“Uh…” Great, fucking great. All the fucking hormones made her flustered and her defenses never came up. She failed to lie in time.

“It’s okay, then. Right?”

No, it was not fucking okay. There had to be a limit to what they did in the bedroom. Victoria did not need more depravity in her life. Her brain, however, was still reeling and could not come up with a convincing argument.

“It’s, uh… it’s dirty…”

“It’s not,” Max answered without missing a beat. “I already tasted it, remember?”

Fucking hell. And people thought she was evil. Victoria felt her reluctance melting away. “But…” she mumbled lamely.

“Not an inch of you is dirty, Victoria. You are perfect.” With that, Max once again reached with both hands for the spot where Victoria’s thighs met her hips, and pulled her down finding no resistance.

When Victoria felt Max’s tongue entering her in a spot never meant for that, and a keening, needy sound escaped her, she knew that there would be no more holds barred in the bedroom. Nor would they be able to turn back. Who knew what sex would be like for them from now on? She should have been at least a bit worried about adding more sins to the pile, but she could not find it in herself.

If there was a hell, she was already going there for her arrogance; for taking pills just to have a semblance of a normal day and night cycle in her life; for what she did to Kate; for how she treated most people, including her girlfriend, Max—yes, because despite her selfish protestations, that was what the hipster was; and last, but not least, for those times her thoughts had turned to murder when she could not stand her parents’ overbearing, judgmental, humiliating, denigrating and belittling criticism of her every action. Yep, anal sex was probably the least of her concerns.

The next time Victoria was aware of her surroundings, she found herself in nearly complete darkness. It was nighttime. She was lying on the couch with a gently snoring Max, her arm around the girl’s shoulders, keeping her snugly against her side. Pointedly ignoring how comfortable this arrangement was, Victoria instead considered the fact that it was probably time for bed. She needed to medicate and send Max to her room.

Carefully, she extricated her arm and stood up, walking silently toward her dresser.

“Don’t,” Max said, nearly giving Victoria a heart attack.

“Jesus!” Victoria turned around, one hand on her chest. “Don’t what?”

“I hate it when you take pills.”

That did it. How dare Max presume she could tell Victoria Chase what she could or could not do? Just because they were fuckbuddies it did not entitle the hipster to anything. And yes, Victoria was aware that thinking like this of Max was tantamount to taking back her own previous assessment of the girl, but this bullshit could not be tolerated.

Before she could reply, however, Max added, “I can sleep here, you know.”

Victoria snorted. “Cuddling won’t fix my head, Maxine,” she spat venomously. “Love isn’t some magic heal-all, don’t be naïve. It’s unbecoming, even of you.”

Unexpectedly, Max did not shrink away as she always did.

“I know that, Maribeth,” she spat right back, catching Victoria by surprise.

Maribeth, her mother’s middle name. Her grandmother’s name. A name presented to her as a legacy, one that turned out to be an unbearable burden forcibly cast upon her shoulders. Victoria hated her middle name.

Then, as suddenly as Max’s defiance had appeared, it went away; as if she somehow knew what she had done. Which, of course, was impossible, because Victoria had never told anyone. Max’s posture deflated, her shoulders slumped forward, and she sighed deeply.

“Let’s not fight,” she added.

“Get out.” Victoria’s voice was glacial.

“Okay,” Max acquiesced, her tone subdued. She walked toward the door and opened it without even picking her clothes up. Before crossing the threshold, she turned to look over her shoulder.

“You know, love may not be magical, but I love you anyway, Victoria.” Max’s voice broke near the end of the sentence.

Victoria’s heart clenched, the guilt becoming an actual physical sensation in her chest. There was no way she could just stand there and do nothing after hearing Max on the verge of tears and seeing her fragile, naked form exposed to the light of the hallway. The hipster had spewed this nonsense about love before, but never like this, not while being thrown out of the room still naked after having sex. This was beyond low even for Victoria. Despite their circumstances, she could not do this to someone who was so consistently earnest toward her. Otherwise, what the fuck was she doing with her life?

“Shit,” she cursed under her breath. “Max, wait.”

As if held in place by the words themselves, Max stopped immediately, allowing Victoria to catch up and grab her hand.

“Alright,” Victoria said, trying her utmost to sound comforting, “let’s try it your way.”

Max turned her head and smiled, wiping the tears away with her free hand. “Okay.”

“Once,” Victoria interjected hastily.

Turning fully, Max laughed through a sob. “Okay. Once.”

“And if it doesn’t work… which it obviously won’t. I’ll…” Victoria was clearly winging it at this point, merely trying to cling to some semblance of control. “You’ll let me throw away your entire wardrobe and buy you some new shit… Okay?”

Max squeezed Victoria’s hand. “Deal.”

Without any more words, Victoria closed the door, threw the lock, and pulled Max toward the bed. They did not concern themselves with clothes and simply lied down as they were. If nothing else, Victoria thought, she was going to enjoy the hipster’s warm, smooth skin all night. Not a huge sacrifice even if she ended up not sleeping. Or rather, all things considered, not really a sacrifice at all. She had pulled all-nighters before, and for worse reasons.

The following morning, Victoria woke up wrapped in Max’s limbs, and late for third term.

The damn hipster wore a smug grin on her stupid cute face all day long.

“Looks like the ugly hoodies and doe shirts are here to stay, huh?” Max commented casually at some point.

What the actual fuck? Fuck you, cuddling. And fuck you too, love.

That same night, Victoria threw all her pills down the toilet. Quitting cold turkey was a bad idea, but, she could always ask Max to fuck her silly if the effects of withdrawal got too bad. The hipster already made her shake to the core anyway.

**FIN**

**Author's Note:**

> Seriously, listen to Oh No! by Marina and the Diamonds. It’s practically Victoria’s theme song.


End file.
